Get Together

...you're far away from me, my love, but just as sure, my-my baby, as there are stars above....

I've come to the conclusion that one can either Consume, or Produce, but not both.

Not well. Not efficiently. Not profitably.

And if I am to make lemonade of my Alzheimer's lemon, I must begin to Produce, rather than Consume.

Not that the Consumption itself is rewardless, no. Pugsley and I have been watching the Star Treks, all the Treks except The Original Series, which makes no sense to me, but he thinks it's corny and cheesy and he's not wrong except that's not the point. There's history, man. There's innovation, man.

But anyway. We've saved a few episodes of Next Gen, same with Deep Space Nine, and we are now on the final season of Voyager.

I've begun watching Enterprise, alone, because its pacing is akin to that of a BBC detective series, which Pugsley and Gomez find right plodding painful.

The point being, (I'm pretty sure I had one), that I'm enjoying bonding with my son over sci fi shows. There's a reboot of Lost In Space that people he likes seem to have good opinions of, but no, he's all about binge-watching Voyager right now.

Still, if I'm to be profitable, ever, I need to start now. Finding Nellie's Boy won't write itself, nor will My Mother The Horse, Adventures In Alzheimer's or Radio Baseball (which I just recently conceived, as a musical play first, then as a work of creative non-fiction, THEN a musical, I mean, why NOT double-dip, if I can?) Thus my first entry of 2018, coming in May, no less, is about me getting my shit together.

The Supremes; Someday We'll Be Together